


Emerald Memories

by Sioncup



Category: Original Work
Genre: Drama, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:22:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27079531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sioncup/pseuds/Sioncup





	1. (Part 1) - A seabound tale

Roles. Roles are important. They are a guiding light always present; they are a cold embrace of something superior to your being. It is so easy to give in to them, so easy to let go.

“Would you give up your choices for a tranquil life?” …I never found the answer for that question that my grandmother posed to me almost ten years ago to the day. Perhaps if I were another person, I would have likely thought nothing of it and just discarded it as a trivial matter that she asked me to simply pass the time. However, the reason that question stuck to me was exactly because it was my grandmother posing to me in the first place. We were getting closer.

The ship’s horn suddenly crashed my train of thought, signalling that we were set to arrive in Nordeensa within the hour. Not too long after, I heard footsteps coming from behind me. “Aiden, you should get your bearings in order.”

The reason I could not simply ask my grandmother the answer to that question, the reason why I could not hear from her perspective… Was because she was no longer with us. At my grandfather’s request, we were heading back to the place we once called home to mourn her loss; a home we fought so desperately to escape.

I turned around to face my father. “We both know this isn’t worth the danger you’re putting yourself into…”, I muttered. He did not respond to me, so all I was left with was the salty stench of the sea. He knew that he was an outsider; he knew that, in their eyes, he would forever be more akin to a monster than a person. Yet despite it all, he still stood here. He knew that I understood the situation he was putting himself in. He also knew I understood the reason why he would not run away either. He was the strongest person I know. It was a battle of wits I knew I could not win, the only thing my pleading did was to reassure me of the futility of doing it in the first place.

Feeling resigned, I headed back to my sleeping quarters, which meant having to head to the other side of the boat. The boat featured only 6 quarters, however in truth 3 of them were being utilized for storage purposes, despite the fact there was a dedicated compartment for such items. Aside from another family, there did not seem to be any other passengers on board. You would think that such a secluded island would invite a lot of touristic interest, however due to a lack of means of transportation and general disinterest from to government to promote it, most sightseers tended to stay away from it or simply have no knowledge about it, these people being the exception. The boat was deceptively small, the rooms were spacious enough to host up to 6 people at once. I slowly opened our quarter’s wooden door and headed to my bed to start packing my belongings into my suitcase.

After several attempts before finally fitting everything back in, I carefully poked my mother still pretending to be asleep, who had suffered a rude awakening because of the horn. “Mother, we are almost home.”. I picked up my suitcase and headed back out into the main deck, passing by my father who was returning to the quarters himself. From the quick glance I got from his face, I could tell he had been lost deep in thought, just as I was before him.

The sky was clear, the sun shined brightly, and with the stillness of the wind and the waves, it seemed to be an almost perfect day. Of course, such weather was not uncommon around this place, rather it had always been the norm. In my eyes, it represented both as a memento of bygone days, and as a nostalgic source of comfort. The port was in clear sight now. It was a simple infrastructure, featuring a singular dock and a small building, acting as a checkpoint for entries and exits. The mayor of the island had always been strict on who could come and who could leave, so the back of my mind was wondering how that other family would fare.

We had finally arrived. My parents finally came to join me on the main deck, and while we waited for the crew to set up the bridge to land, my mother asked me how I was feeling. Looking at her, I could tell she didn’t know how she herself was feeling, something we unfortunately shared. “I’m a bit nervous, but aside from that I’m feeling just fine.”, I replied. Even though that was not how I truly felt at all, I didn’t want to intensify my mother’s anxiety. In truth, I was utterly terrified; terrified of being back here, terrified about the prospect of seeing _her_ again.

While we were waiting for all the cargo to be unloaded, the captain approached us, telling us that we needed to head to the small building first to get a “certification of stay”. Even thought we were already quite familiar with the process, we still thanked the captain for the word of advice. We headed toward the worn-down building; the fact that this was the only boat that ever came in or out of the island meant that there not much of a need to keep things too tidy. My mother was the one approaching the secretary, while my father and I stood by the entrance waiting. “It has been some time, huh?!”, my father exuberantly blurted out, with an oddly enthusiastic tone. He gave me a slap on the back, which only contributed to the awkwardness of the situation. Before I could attempt any sort of rebuttal, mother had come back with our “certificates”. I wanted to ask her how she even obtained them, especially considering our situation; it seemed as though the secretary just didn’t recognize her.

We began our march as there was no means of transportation here aside from the odd bicycle. My legs were trembling with intense fear: The fear of walking all the way home on foot. After about half an hour of walking on a dirt road, we came across two different paths: one that went straightforward to the village itself, and another to our right that went around the whole island. We had to take to off-path; not only because it was easier to get to our house that way, but also because my parents were heavily favouring discreetness.

Following the coastline, a wonderful breeze blew throughout my face, giving my nose a wonderful cacophony of smells ranging from the smell of the ocean to the various flowers scattered around the greenery. On the other side, a faraway civilization stood, going about their premeditated lives as they had so many times before. It took about an hour and a half to finally reach our house; with the odd stop to rest here and there. We did not find anyone throughout our journey, and it seemed as though my parents had been counting on it as well. We headed towards the porch. Three knocks on the door, our secret code. It didn’t take long for a familiar face to show up. “Diana, Aiden… Welcome home.”


	2. (Part 2) - A seabound home

“The White Giant” was the name I once bestowed upon my home. In spite of such an imposing nickname, it was nothing more than a simple cottage, coated in white. While the maiden of time had dealt quite a blow to the overall presentation, it has always been our family’s pride and joy.

My mother, tears streaming down her face, dropped her bag to rush towards my grandfather, giving him a tight hug. “I missed you so much… I’m so sorry.”

Rupert Onorious Rowland was his name, the man that I have always called my dear grandfather. He had quite an imposing figure, and it seemed like the years had only hardened his looks. He had quite a scruffy beard, its colour akin to snow, which I always remember being so stingy whenever I tried to give him a goodnight’s kiss. He wiped away the tears from her eyes, proceeding to then caress her cheek. “It does my heart good to see you’re alright Diana. I can’t express what it means to me to finally see you again. Why don’t you put your things inside then join me for a cup of tea? I’m sure we have a lot to discuss.”

While my mother walked inside, he turned his eyes to my father. Instead of a warm hand, he instead simply received a cold gaze from him. “Do not cause any trouble.”. It was the most my father was receiving from him. Seemingly unaffected he picked up his things and went inside. My father kept his eyes onto him until he headed to the second floor; it was only then he turned his eyes to me. At that moment, I was quite nervous, I had no idea how he would react to me standing before him again: would he display the same warmth he showed towards my mother, or the icy leer he displayed towards my father? While I was still figuring out what to do in my mind, he walked up to me.

“It has been some time Aiden… How are you feeling?” …The same question my mother asked me. If I couldn’t be honest with her then, I certainly would not be able to be sincere now.

“Fine.” With my head lowered, it was all I could utter. Having such a towering figure right in front of me sent a chill down my spine. I was so afraid that he would reject me, so afraid that he wouldn’t look at me the same he once did all those years ago.

It took a moment before he placed his hands on my shoulders. “I find that hard to believe considering you were never one to have that much stamina. Nevertheless, I’m happy to see you again.”. It was right then when I finally relaxed, on his face stood the warm smile I used to remember so well.

“Well, I’m not exactly a child anymore…”, was all I could come up with. Although I was relieved, I still had trouble coming up with an adequate response. He chuckled.

“Hah. I’m sure Constance will be happy to hear that then!” he proclaimed.

…My face stiffened. A wave of regret washed me away. The one name I could not bear to hear; the one name I never wanted to hear again. I am sure my grandfather realised what he did as well, since he didn’t say anything else. I grabbed my suitcase and headed to the second floor, where my old room used to be.

To my surprise, it seemed as though it had stayed the way it was left as: a bed, a desk, a drawer and a lamp. A small window in the wall facing the outside, giving a clear view of the landscape below. It was a small room; I never had a need for a chair because the bed was so close to the desk. Perhaps it might’ve bothered others to have to live in such a small place, but I always cherished it; as a child I always thought that the smaller the room, the smaller the chances of the Nordeensan ghost to haunt me. Placing everything back where it once was felt therapeutic in a strange sense: as if I were putting all the things I took back in their rightful places once more. Every item had a place, every memory had a story. It all annoyingly fit perfectly, however there was no denying the rush of satisfaction. There was only one outlier to this rule, that being my phone.

Back when I lived here, there were no such things as a phone or even a fax; all we had was a postal service mainly used by the elderly and just direct communication. Having to deal with such archaic systems again was not going to be easy, especially since homes in this island tend to be so far apart from one another. It’s not like it mattered anyway, we would only for the funeral, and depart with the next ship again. While I was opening one of desk’s cabinets, I came across a small book; a diary to be exact. It took me a few moments before the memories came rushing back; the one thing I could not take with me, the one thing I was too weak to remain with.

Since I had some time to burn, and fuelled by a whim, I decided to open that diary that I had neglected for far too long; I went to the living room to grab one of the wooden chairs that we used back whenever we had a lot of people coming for dinner. My grandfather and my mother were casually chatting away in the dining table, enjoying a cup of tea and sweets; my father meanwhile was in the living room’s couch, making a few phone calls.

Instead of starting from the first entry, I decided to open a random page. “5th of December, My first visit to the Nodreensan shrine!” …Whenever I saw that spelling mistake, I could not help but smile. I am not sure why I never wrote the year on my entries; perhaps it was a simple overlook? Or maybe I just wanted to leave future me confused.

“…lady North was super cool! Harlyn and Robin were always fighting, so I got angry at them because they never shut up! I’m going to tell them I’m sorry tomorrow for yelling at them, but only because Constance told me to!” More names. More memories. Harlyn…Robin...I wonder if they still remember me. The best scenario in my mind would be that they simply forgot about me; the worst, however…

I open another entry. “28th of December, My birthday!!!” I remember the warmth of my lamp whilst writing these entries at night, when I thought that everyone else was asleep, yet there I was staunchly recording my experiences of the day.

“…I’m sad that mommy couldn’t play with me today, and I didn’t even see daddy at all... But Constance came by to play with me! I don’t have many toys, so we wrote a story instead! Granny and Gramps made me a cake too!”

…My eyes started growing heavy from all these entries. This book contained the happiest times of my life, my most precious memories. If nostalgia were a lake, I would have long drowned in it. I am not sure how much time I spent shifting through the pages, reliving those moments.

It was all interrupted with two knocks on the door. Opening the door, my grandfather informs me that dinner was ready. Back in the day, we always had our food in the kitchen, however in special occasions we would instead go to the living room. It was always a game to guess where we would have dinner that day, so having that experience again made me a bit giddy.

Finding out that we were having dinner in the living room made me unconsciously happy, and it seemed as though my mother felt the same, since was also beaming a big smile that night. My father seemed indifferent to the matter, but considering he was not that familiar with our traditions, it made sense. Although the occasion was special, the food itself remained simple: Roasted chicken with rice, with salad on the side. It seemed that my grandfather and mother continued their banter, whilst me and my father just ate silently.

Of course, this was a Rowland dinner, so there was no way my grandfather was letting me escape without a meaningful conversation with him. “Aiden, can you believe that after all these years your grandfather hasn’t gotten a single new piece of clothing?!” My mother proclaimed. Personally, I was quite indifferent to the matter, but I still gave a small laugh in response.

“How are you finding your room Aiden? Your grandmother always took extra special care cleaning it.” I could sense a bit hesitation from my grandfather’s part when he asked that question. I got the feeling that he did not want to hurt my feelings again, so he was being more careful with his questions.

“It’s full of memories. Thank you so much for keeping it intact.”. I noticed that my father was conveniently left out of the conversation, and it seemed as though my mother had no intentions of having him join in either.

I decided to take an early night after dinner. I needed to recollect my thoughts and overall get a good night’s sleep to compensate for that horrid trip. The bed was rigid, the opposite of the one in my apartment back home. I got the feeling that it wasn’t going to be an easy night.


End file.
